Shadows Rising
by BlackRosePoetry
Summary: I'm suffocating. There are so many ghosts. . . . it feels like my life is slipping away. Why are we in Storybrooke? Why does Henry not want me anywhere near his adoptive mother? And why is there a man with no face following me? Will the nightmare never end? . . . . Hooked Queen, OCxOC pairings


I rolled down the passenger side window and let the fog flow over my fingertips. Maine was a beautiful place, all thick forest and moist air. Everything was amazingly clear; it felt good to get away from the stupid shit of everyday life. _Motionless in White _was creating background noise, Reese's singing far surpassing it in the volume department, but I couldn't seem to make myself care. Ten-year-old singing was so much better than listening to the voices screaming in my head. . . .

_couple found in apartment dead  
dead dead dead **murdered**_

"Get outta my head, goddammit," I hissed. The guilt popped up at the most inopportune moments.

Jackson took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at me with worried chocolate M&M eyes. "You okay, Lia-girl?"

A smile that I know didn't do anything but curve my mouth popped up. My left hand tangled itself in a mass of long sunset-colored hair and a sigh escaped its cage. "Yeah, those damn guilty voices keep coming back. They're like herpes; incurable and a righteous, itchy pain in the ass."

My boyfriend laughed aloud for the first time in forever. Broken whispers of guilt had trapped all our laughter in tight cages of pasty white skin, acne, kids who have no idea what the hell they're going to do next. All we have to do now is laugh, be free, not have to deal with all the death and alcoholic-daddies or pill-popping mommies and funeral plans and bills. My brothers (_and cousin, 'cause if we forgot Valor that would be_ _tragic_)can be kids again.

It feels like Heaven.

"Sissy, when're we gonna get there? I'm hungry, and Maddox keeps kicking me," Reese whines.

I look into the back seat to give my nine-year-old brother a stern look - it doesn't fit on my face. This girl is only eighteen. Parenthood comes too early for some people; one of those people is me. "Reese's-Pieces, we'll be there in about ten minutes. And quit fibbing to me 'cause you know good and well Maddox is asleep."

Bright pink little-boy lips pout at me. _(I must not crack must. not. crack mustnotcrack 'cause I'm their mom now so I can't crack)_ That particular look has been in Reese's arsenal since he was a newborn. It hasn't worked in a while, but it's getting hard to discipline. Not many people understand what having two dead parents is like.

Trust me: Dr. Cooper, con-artist extraordinaire, taught me that soon enough.

Jackson pulls the old Explorer onto a backroad and soon we're surrounded by nothing but trees, wind, the smell of damp leaves. I inhale, exhale, and let out all of the bad memories. Mud keeps splattering the chipped maroon paint on the sides of our vehicle. It doesn't matter. We can always wash it when we get back to civilization (_a nice way of saying going back to Hell_). The cooler sloshes icy cold water and Cokes around like an old washing machine. I reach up and crank the heat up to **Fry**.

"It's really goddamn cold in Maine. Why didn't you warn me?" I grumble.

The boy (_man? adolescent? it's so hard to tell anymore)_ chuckles, tongue working on his silver lip rings. "I _did_ tell you, stupid. You decided 125 pounds of you and some sweatshirts would be enough."

Valor lets out a snore loud enough to rattle the windows from underneath her blanket burrito in the back. All I can see is a bit of her bright red hair sticking out from underneath the thick quilts she's piled around herself. It looks like carrots made into keratin. Ajax the Fox is clutched tightly in someone's fist - most likely Maddox's, judging by the pudginess and the size - and for once, our car is totally silent.

I chuckle under my breath and wrap my sinewy arms around myself. "It's not my fault I'm stubborn. I blame the Democrats."

Again, Jackson laughs. _(It's a miracle! Let's all hold hands and sing hymns! The stoic-one laughs once more!)_ Laughing used to be a common occurrence in our family. No more not since

_couple found dead in apartment  
_ _alone, alone, **murdered**  
they called 20 times - didn't answer 'cause Reese's Pieces wanted ice cream  
__all your FAULT stupid bitch_

the "incident". Losing both of your parents can kinda suck the fun out of life. But we're making it, taking everything one step, one day, one laugh at a time. Now the world seems just a little bit brighter.

Ironic, because I can't see a single thing through all the trees that surround us. Jackson pulls the Explorer into an open clearing, idles for a moment, then shuts off the engine. He turns to the only other conscious person in the car with a lopsided grin

"We're here!" he sing-songed. The deep tenor tones echo in my head and vibrate the giant Adam's apple in his thin windpipe.

Reese's-Pieces can barely contain his excitement; his green eyes sparkled happily, fists clenching/unclenching/clenching, and chocolaty-brown curls halo around his head like a crown. I grin at him and say, "Well go on there, peanut-butter-cup, bail out and help Jackson unload everything. Then we'll eat lunch."

There's no stopping that boy as he explodes out of the P.O.S. car we so affectionately call "The Trash-Heap". Nine-year-old + five hours in a Trash Heap + prospect of s'mores = unstoppable. Jackson rocks that loose, silver-studded grin I love, bailing out in a wave of long limbs and black denim. I can hear giggling and leaves crunching under heavy boots and my brother conspiring with the only REAL father he's ever known. It feels like someone cut me open and let all the shadows, demons, _ghosts_ out and shoved in cookies and puppies and melted sugary chocolate; fantastic. A smile crosses my lips even though they're unaccustomed to such an action after recent events.

"Valor, wake up. We're here. You need to help me and Jackson set up the tent."

A groan erupts from the human-shaped blanket burrito in the back floorboard. I roll my eyes; thirteen, and she acts like she's my age.

It's fucking ridiculous.

I grab an empty Mountain Dew can from the cup-holder and hurl it at the only exposed part of Valor's body; her carrot-top head. The girl lets out a hiss reminiscent of an angry cat, hazel eyes venomous. Venomous, but still very sleepy in a new teenager way. "What was that for? I haven't _done _anything!"

Scoff. "That's my point, stupid. Get up and help Jackson reign in the little chocolate-terror. I'll get Maddox changed before we make camp."

Grumbling every curse under the sun, Valor unwraps her cocoon, stretches too-long legs, gets out of the car swearing the entire time. Ah the perks of being a parent to a cousin! Or sibling. Or anyone else for that matter, especially if you're seventeen. That's a warning kids; don't let your parents fuck up and die when you're the only responsible adult left in the family. Uncle Sam _will_ stick you with the twerps.

Okay, so it's not all bad. Twerps have their perks after you get the hang of being a responsible parent.

I unbuckle and crawl out. A chill runs down my spine from the cool damp Maine air. Opening the door and removing Maddox from his car seat only takes a moment. It takes another moment to change his diaper. Dimpled cheeks covered in soft baby fat contort into one of those heart-melting grins that no one on planet Earth could not adore. My youngest brother is adorable; chubby - not too much, just enough - with blond curls and eyes that change colors still. Right now they're a bright sky-blue. Little fingers curl around mine as I finish putting on a pair of mini Carhart pants so I give them a kiss.

It makes him giggle.

"Come on Lia! You have to help put up the tent! Jackson can't understand the directions, and I'm hungry." Reese is demanding, arms crossed with an expression that I can sometimes see in the mirror.

Silver rings quirk up when Jackson raises an eyebrow. "I can too read the directions. You just want your sister to think I'm stupid so she'll break up with me. Am I wrong?"

"Well, you're stupid, but I don't want you gone! Who else would make me Stuff on a Shingle for dinner when Lia-Lia's not around?" The younger voice sounds confused in an innocent way.

Valor, who's been watching this whole thing unfold, grunts in exasperation. "Dear God, just shut up and put up the goddamn tent up already!"

"Language, " I reprimand. Maddox must sit comfortably in his portable play-pen before I can do anything.

"But you say it all the time!" she whines. Thirteen; right, it's more like three in maturity years.

"Do as I say not as I do."

My advice must be irritating. Therefore, my cousin _(daughter? sibling? whatever, the headache isn't worth it) _must stomp over to help Jackson-Reese. My boyfriend gives me "the Look". He's planning something devious, evil, genius parenting in it's most basic sense. I can only pray to God above that it won't be anything that'll get us all a one-way ticket to the Hot Place. And by that I mean Florida. Or Hell. Whichever one seems more diabolical and horrendous at the time is the one I go with in any given situation. Trust me, it works as a threat for children that make me want to pull my hair out.

* * *

Three hours pass in a blur of tents that won't stay up and turkey sandwiches and sticky s'more stuck in Ajax's hair. I love every searing minute of it.

"Yo Lia! Throw me the fluffy blanket!"

I sigh; Valor has _no_ manners. "What's the magic word?"

A scoff. "Give me the blanket or I'll do horrible things to you in your sleep."

"That's more than one word, and I'm not giving you the blanket until you say please."

Jackson snickers lightly from behind me, arms tightening around my torso. The face my younger cousin _(sister, daughter, charge, goddammit I have to quit doing this!)_ makes sends us all, including Reese, into a fit of hysteria.

"Why the hell are you all laughing so hard? It's not that funny!"

"Language!" I cry. Too many cuss words around a parroter like Maddox could end badly for everyone here.

Valor rolls her eyes and shoves a s'more into the yawning black hole in her face. "May I _please_ have the fluffy friggin' blanket, oh dearest mommy?"

The arms around my waist tighten once more. I can feel Jackson quirk an eyebrow. "We could do without the sarcasm Valor. But I guess you can have the blanket just this once."

His voice is tight, controlling in a fatherly way that seems to suit my darling beau all too well. Part of it may be due to the fact that he practically helped raise the teenager sitting across from us since before she can remember. None of my family members are what one would call "good parent-material". There's too many drugs, variables of the heart, and booze-soaked one-night stands for anyone I've ever known to be considered as such. Not to mention all the beatings that every Anderson child have endured. . . . .

It's dark, and the wind's beginning to pick up speed. Reese whimpers quietly before dashing to Val's side. They cling to each other for comfort as a roar of wind blows through the trees. Storms + my brother and cousin = terrible fear.

Jackson sits up quickly, dark eyes made darker by the shadows and wind that threaten from every corner. Cold gusts of wind are _howling_ through the pine trees around us. It's unnerving; there's something coming and no one has a goddamn clue how to stop it. Maddox starts bawling in my arms. He latches on with pudgy fists that are way too strong for someone so small.

Somehow my soft voice carries over the roar surrounding us. "Get in the tent. Get in the tent NOW!"

Everyone rushes the polyester shelter that provides limited safety. But in our minds, it's a fortress, capable of withstanding even siege by Roman legions, much less some pathetic windstorm. I look out of the mostly-zipped doorway, watching as a purple cloud of doom rolls through the trees towards us. It's full of lightning and thunder and destruction in its most basic sense. The force rips through everything, is afraid of nothing, but causes everything else to fear it.

But why, I wonder, is there a person standing in the trees?

As the purple smoke envelops everything in sight and I pull back towards my family, I think it strange that the man looks like he doesn't have a face.


End file.
